


Reflections

by if420fireflies



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley's Sunglasses (Good Omens), Drabble Collection, Fluff, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, a bluegill sunfish, aziraphale just wants his domestic partner of six thousand years to notice him, aziraphale philosophizes over sunglasses, fluff (again), honestly i thought the book was already pretty gay, imagine how i felt after the show, moral ambiguity although not really, who crowley may or not be projecting onto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28345341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/if420fireflies/pseuds/if420fireflies
Summary: Sunglasses, pond ice, and The Almighty Herself.A series of Crowley/Aziraphale drabbles. Will be updated if I ever manage to write more.God I love Michael Sheen.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 6





	1. Lens

The thing about sunglasses: they revealed more about you than they did about the person wearing them.

When Aziraphale talked to Crowley, all he saw was his own reflection, scrunching his nose or waving a hand or storming away. Or... smiling like an idiot, stepping closer.

And behind his glasses, Crowley would laugh, and do horrible, demonic things. But mostly he’d do good things. Right things. He’d smirk maniacally, like he really didn’t care, and his fringe would fall into his face, and he’d smile like an idiot. Step closer.

When Aziraphale talked to Crowley, all he saw was himself.


	2. Shadows

People tried to impress Her with extremes. Purity, sin, devotion, treason. Blacks and whites, stark and brief, flickering out of existence as soon as they appeared. And yes, they were nice colours. 

But it’s the greys She loves. 

Warm as morning and forbidding as glass, clingy and subtle, like stains you could never quite get out.

She watches an angel and a demon, rebelling not against Her, nor against Evil, but against everything else. And She smiles.

She would take out a bet on how long before they love each other’s greyness the way She does, but She already knows.


	3. Ice

Crowley watches the fish sleeping under the clear pond ice. In it, Aziraphale’s reflection leans sideways into his. Crowley allows it, because he’s quote-unquote "cold.” (Demons don’t actually get cold.)

Crowley  _ doesn’t _ let an arm fall over the angel’s shoulder. He could. Aziraphale would let him, welcome it, even. But Aziraphale is actually cold.

A bluegill emerges and stares at Crowley unblinkingly. 

Crowley imagines it muttering something like, “You know either of you could miracle yourselves warm, right?”

Crowley snaps his fingers. The fish blinks out of existence. He continues to not-hold Aziraphle.

(Demons do not take sass from sunfish.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
